Mytwosentences 169 (The Preston Tapley Chronicles)

(Continued from Mytwosentences 168)

The walk toward the cab was slow, actually umbrella in the wind discombobulated, but Preston pressed on with eyes wide.

The clomp of his backward progress seemed similar to that of Frankenstein’s monster in a cool movie he watched only yesterday…then he saw the thing that would change his life.

Written by Edward Roads

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Mytwosentences 168 (The Preston Tapley Chronicles)

(Continued from Mytwosentences 167)

After looking up at a rolling quilt of a sky, he immediately took off toward the annoying and unexplained sounds of his new backyard.

As Preston ran upon the matted and long dead grass of his side lawn, he caught something unsettling out of the corner of his eye… the taxi that dropped him off was just sitting there.

Written by Edward Roads 

Mytwosentences 167 (The Preston Tapley Chronicles)

(Continued from Mytwosentences 162)

Preston moved mummy-like, shock was turning his already sketchy palate to a slightly chewy dust, toward the vacant spot where unmet Mick wasn’t.

As he knelt near the lush green of his missing next door neighbor’s perfectly manicured lawn, another sound, what was this three or four now, boomed from his yet unseen backyard.

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 166

Their corner of the neighborhood had a palpable pulse and seemed to breathe life into the early morning, even before lines formed to join the bulging sea of bakery chatter, endless cups of fresh coffee and delicious warm pastry.

The simple charms of community, once on daily display, had given way to fingerprints and faceless face smudges, nothing more than glass tombstones in an unforgiving domain gravid with interloping greed.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 165

Over the years she grew to be the doyen of the Tuesday night crochet crew, which helps explain the homegrown red roses that were promptly placed at the old wood fence when two prom kids failed to navigate the corner last June.

As three generations of family were en route to celebrate her ninety years, a worn but aware Mrs. Rothschild looked out a spotless kitchen window and lost breath at the new chain link fence that overnight had become a horrifying cliche.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

 

Mytwosentences 164

Upon taking her trembling hand at the tracks, his smitten eyes grew dear, breath momentarily hugged from a heartbeat skipped and summer tanned pores fashioned exquisite runnels of exhale.

After he offered a subtle lamp of assurance, they moved in tandem across the rails and simultaneously found safety on the other side.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 163

The one thing he repeatedly told her, way back in their not so splended when, was to never overplay her hand, regardless of where it was dealt.

Fresh out of an unsettling six year stint at Greengrove max, she took a couple of unpositive steps forward, slung a faded denim knapsack over her left shoulder and for the first time in more than a bit, began again.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

Mytwosentences 162 (The Preston Tapley Chronicles)

The new home owner turned and extended his hand, but was only greeted with the tattered, unright air (of a god forsaken place) blowing in it’s own rhythm over an unfamiliar space.

The yet unmet next door neighbor had suddenly become nothing more than a crusty off-white handkerchief sitting without purpose on Preston Tapley’s thirsty front lawn.

(Continued from Mytwosentences 161)

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads